I see young boys and girls strapped to the wheelchair,
And my troubles seem so petty, they dissolve in the air,
Many of them unable to move,
Some unable to feel, leave alone groove,

Yet the place is so lively,
People joking, talking animatedly,
Each engrossed in one’s therapy,
Attendants engrossed in gossip and chirpy,

My baby likes it there too,
She likes the pampering and the hullabaloo,
You can see the glint in her eyes,
And the mischief in her smile she tries to disguise,

We should have more of such places,
Which indeed your troubles embraces,
It’s not just about the therapy,
It’s where you interact, exercise, and are happy!